Thursday, April 26, 2012

A Good Paragraph

It was almost midnight. The tables were cluttered with napkins and used silverware, tablecloths rumpled like bed-sheets. The diners reclined in their chairs, hands drifting leisurely back and forth between espresso cups and the last sips of port. Tips of fingers caressed the surface of white plates, snaring the last flakes of chocolate left from cinnamon dusted truffles. Smells lingered in the air, sliding across bare shoulders, nestling into the curls of hair - risotto and chanterelle mushrooms, sweet and rich and buttery, the bite of Parmesan, the rosemary and white wine and garlic of a slow-cooked pork roast. And bread, of course, the long loaves having been passed hand to hand, chunks pulled off, dipped in small white dashes of green olive oil with dark, molten drops of balsamic vinegar floating in its midst. Wine bottles had long ago lost their ownership, traveling up and down the tables like porters on a train. 
{Erica Bauermeister from Joy for Beginners}

Don't you just wanna be there?
If {when?} I write a book, I want to write about food, about people, about gatherings this way.
I want to make people wish they were there. 
And if they don't wish they were there the only reason is because they felt they were already transported there through my words.

My goodness...I just love words.

{photo: here}


Alicia Marie said...

Great paragraph. I am now hungry.

Rachel said...

Yes, I've been transported by your words.

Did you guys come out of the storm okay??